Unexamined lives
by Lady-Morsmordre
Summary: Draco Malfoy has an opportunity to reexamine and reshape his life. Will he take it? What part does love have to play in this?
1. Default Chapter

**Disclaimer:** Everything, everywhere and everyone you recognize here belongs to You Know Who. No, no _that_ You Know Who, the oth… Oh, bollocks! 

**Author's note:** This is meant to be a nice, juicy, long fic about Draco Malfoy and the inner workings of his delightfully twisted mind. I am not quite sure how it will work out because Draco, not quite unexpectedly, refuses to do as I ask and keeps telling me to sod off for being just a Muggle. But, since I am the one with the Quick-Quotes Quill, poor Master Malfoy will have to subject himself to my meddling in his story. 

I would appreciate reviews, ideas, comments, encouragement, and even flames, which will come in handy to tame the Devil's Snare in my back yard. If anyone has a spare Beta reader to toss my way, I could also use one of those.  And I never say no to chocolate.

Thanks to Jennifer Lee, who read this chapter and did not gag. Long live Jacob! (Don't you worry, people, she'll get it!)

**Unexamined Lives**

CHAPTER 1

As soon as she saw the owl swoop into the great hall she knew, she just knew, this was it. 

Hermione completely forgot about swallowing the bite of pastry that she'd been chewing as her eyes tracked the tawny owl approaching her. As she expected, a large sheaf of parchment landed in front of her, and the bird gracefully turned in midair and flew back out the window. 

Ron and Harry saw her reach for the bundle with a trembling hand, give a very uncharacteristic whoop, and dart away from the table with her mail in hand, bumping into Seamus Finnigan, who was about to take a seat at that moment. Hermione barely looked at him with wide eyes and a dazzling smile, and just ran out of the hall. 

"What's with her?" Seamus asked Harry. 

Harry shrugged, looked at Ron, who seemed as clueless as he was. "Don't know, but it seemed important to her," he said.

"I'd say more like earth shattering, actually," Ron sniggered. "She left her books behind." 

# # # # # # # #

Ron and Harry spent the morning carrying Hermione's books around to class with them, and getting increasingly worried as she missed Charms, and then Transfiguration. Short of petrification or being partially turned into a cat, nothing had** ever prevented Hermione from attending class before.**

"If she hadn't looked so happy when she ran out this morning, I would be terrified right now," Ron commented as they left Professor McGonagall's classroom at lunchtime. Instead of heading to the Gryffindor table to grab a bite, they decided to look for her. 

"Where do you think she went?" asked Ron.

Harry looked at him in disbelief. "We're talking about Hermione."

"The library, then."

When Harry finally spotted her in the quietest corner of the library, Hermione's nose was firmly embedded into a large tome. She was talking to herself.

"Yes, I will have to include this, although it clashes with some of my previous research. But I can't ignore the…"

"Hermione," Harry called out softly. 

She did not acknowledge him, or seem to even hear him at all.

"Are you all right?" asked Ron prodding her arm gently. He looked genuinely concerned. "You missed two classes, we were worried about you."

She did not look up, but instead kept perusing the book with a huge grin. "Oh, I just had something really important to do," she exhaled with a dreamy expression.

Now the boys exchanged truly mystified glances. They had known Hermione for almost seven years, and knew her priorities to be skewed enough that nothing, _ever, took precedence over class. They had teased her many times about a comment she made their first year, to the effect that she'd rather be killed than expelled from school._

"Are you going to tell us what is going on?" Ron asked impatiently. "You left all your books behind, and we have been lugging them around all morning. By the way, you must be very strong, Hermione. Harry and I had to split the load to be able to carry it. Although I have to ask, why do you keep a copy of _Hogwarts, A History with you? I thought you had memorized it, seems redundant." _

This finally got her to look up. "Oh! I forgot all about those! Thanks for bringing them to me! I am so glad I decided to reread that book, it will come in quite handy to have all those facts about the school fresh in my mind" she said. Her big, bright eyes went from Ron to Harry, and she giggled.

Hermione giggling was the last straw. Ron and Harry slammed her books on the table, earning a stern look from Madam Pince, the librarian. Each boy pulled a chair and sat flanking her. 

"Either you explain what is going on, or we'll have to take you to the infirmary, and let Madam Pomfrey sort you out," growled Ron. Harry simply nodded. "You just don't sound right."

To their total amazement, Hermione just hugged them both, giggled again, and exclaimed, "My paper was selected! Can you imagine what an honor?"

"Selected for what?" the boys asked in unison.

"I have been invited to make a presentation to the International Wizarding Council later this year! Can you believe it?"

# # # # # # # #

The three friends marched down to lunch. A fluttery, breathless and still giggling Hermione Granger was an unusual sight, so many students in the corridors stepped aside, and looked after them as they passed. Ron and Harry followed her looking very pleased, and congratulated her repeatedly. 

Hermione was finally explaining in more detail as they walked. "Since Voldemort resurfaced at the end of our fourth year, the international magical community has been in a flurry of activity to prepare a united front in opposing his ascent. They are aware that the Dark Lord's intention this time is to subjugate the wizarding community not only in the United Kingdom, but worldwide. He has had all these years to plan, and his ambition has swelled out of all proportion."

Ron simply nodded. This was not news to him, as his father and older brother Percy worked at the Ministry of Magic. It had been the topic of more than one somber discussion back home throughout the last couple of summers.

Harry, although more intimately connected with the horrific events leading to Voldemort's return, was less up-to-date with the wizarding news, since he spent summers with his Muggle relatives who were adamant about keeping what they termed his _abnormality out of their home, and this encompassed anything remotely related to magic._

"It is the consensus that there has not been a threat like this to wizards and witches everywhere. It cannot be handled like all other conflicts throughout history. The Muggle world is in as much danger now as ours, since Voldemort has shown no compunctions to killing Muggles. They are bound to find out something is going on, even if they do not understand what it is," she continued pensively. 

"The Departments of International Cooperation at the Ministries of Magic everywhere have called for a meeting to develop a plan of action. They want us all working on a clear plan, with the idea that we can achieve more if everyone is working united. They realize that this will have to include wizards of all ages, in all positions, since there is a limited number of Aurors, who cannot possibly be everywhere at once."

"Yes, I heard my father talking this over with Mad-Eye Moody just last summer. You know, Moody was retired, but he's still training Aurors, and is just raring to whomp some Death Eaters," Ron commented. "Or turn them into ferrets and bounce them really high," he started snickering, but Harry elbowed him, and turned his attention back to Hermione. 

As they turned into a new corridor, Hermione continued, unperturbed by Ron's interruption. "It is likely that, when Voldemort strikes, he will have a more organized scheme than ever before. You know there has been random violence, and several people have disappeared in the last few years, plus the Dark Mark has been sighted again, but something bigger is in the works."

"I heard about this, and submitted a paper calling for cooperation with Muggle authorities. I worked on it through the summer. I did not think I would be selected to give a presentation in person!" she finished breathlessly. Then her voice trembled. "There is so much riding on it. Maybe it was presumptuous of me…"

Ron and Harry just stared at her. They knew she was very smart and capable, a powerful and determined witch, but it was hard to picture their friend Hermione in front of the decision-makers of the wizarding world, lecturing them. 

It struck Ron first, _Why not? She has lectured everyone else; it is only natural that as time went by, she would raise the stakes_. But he kept this in, simply smiled, and nodded as Harry put it into words: "Hermione, we are proud of you! If there is any way we can help, we are behind you."

Hermione blushed and smiled, "I know." And with a quick gesture, she squeezed their arms as they made their entrance into the great hall, and took their seats.

# # # # # # # #

The first few months of term progressed as usual, Hermione helping Ron and Harry with their schoolwork, while she continued to prepare her presentation. 

After a couple of sessions talking with them, explaining about her original paper, and using them as a sounding board, she started to notice their eyes glassing over. Hermione knew they wanted to support her, but their hearts were not into such dry subject matter. She couldn't hold it against them. Harry was action-minded, while Ron was just happy to follow his lead. 

The threat of a large scale, insidious offensive against wizards was somehow far less tangible than the immediate dangers they had faced together in previous years, or the minor annoyances like Malfoy insulting them in passing at every turn. 

Harry, Ron and Hermione's life that year had been as uneventful as any other students' while they prepared for their tests, attended Quidditch matches, went to Hogsmeade. It was a welcome respite from the excitement and drama of other times.

While Ron and Harry welcomed this change, and settled into being typical students, Hermione did not. She saw the quiet times as a confirmation of her idea that Voldemort was simply situating his pieces on the board, and that when it came, his attack would be devastating. 

Hermione started spending more and more time in the library, which, given that she already spent hours on end there, made her more or less a permanent fixture. She had so much research to do!

The focus of her paper had been to call for cooperation with Muggle authorities, to make them aware of the threat they also faced. She was doing background research and trying to develop an enforceable way to achieve this, so she could make a more complete, useful presentation. 

In all she did she was methodical, so she scoured the books for historical references, political precedents, anything that might somehow relate to such an endeavor. Hermione prepared Arithmantic charts supporting her position, and even briefly considered preparing an argument based on Divination, but eventually discarded this idea as essentially impractical and unreliable. She did not hold with such quackery.

She learned much more History of Magic than Professor Binns ever taught her in those hours. Hermione read about other great disturbances in the wizarding world, about the goblin rebellions, the heroes and villains forged in those times. 

Hermione was surprised to read about an Eliphas Malfoi, who had been a prominent leader during the first goblin uprising. Through history, others of the same name had proven their valor and leadership qualities. She wondered if they were related to Draco Malfoy, the conceited 7th year Slytherin, and what they would think if they could see what their line had come to.

As if summoned, Malfoy walked into her line of sight. She frowned involuntarily. Her reactions to him were visceral. 

For all his undeniable grace, mordacious wit and breeding, Malfoy was just a useless little prat who moved in the wake of his famous name. He was undeniably attractive, in the distant way a statue can be beautiful. It was not his features in themselves, rather his demeanor and elegance that made him so. His exterior was cold, unfeeling, stiff. The expression on his face was one of constant disdain, as if he were passing judgment on everyone and everything around him, and finding them unworthy, although on what authority he would base this judgment was unclear, given his own lack of merit.

Spoiled was the one word that came to mind. Not only because of his disproportionate sense of entitlement, but in a more basic sense, because he had it in him to be a fine young man, but somehow had managed to fall short of every promise he might have held. 

Hermione only spared a moment pondering as she saw him approach a shelf, extract a thick book, and sit next to what looked like a pile of notes. This was new. In their almost seven years at Hogwarts, she had seen him in the library so few times as to bear remembering. And never had she actually seen him doing anything that looked like work. He seemed more the type to sidle up to some obliging Slytherin, and dump his homework on them, which she assumed they did for him without complaint for fear of the Malfoy influence. 

Yet somehow his work consistently seemed to be among the top five in his class. Could she be wrong about that git?

Enough of this. Whether Malfoy did his own schoolwork or not, she had more important things to occupy her, so she summarily dismissed him from her mind, and went back to her research. 

# # # # # # # #

Draco Malfoy was in a bad mood. He had an unusual amount of work to do, and had spent far more time in the library than he had expected, because two out of every three books he wanted to consult were not in their places. He was absorbed by what he was doing, but this inconvenience was quickly draining the enjoyment out of the task he had imposed himself.

Under normal circumstances, he would have used the extensive reference library at Malfoy Manor, but he doubted his father would approve, and Draco preferred to work beneath his notice this time. Things at home, even the most insignificant, had a way of coming to Lucius' attention. Draco Malfoy knew his father would be able to figure out his purpose if he had a list of his recent reading material.

"It can't be helped," he thought. "If Lucius finds out, he will ask me, and I will come up with an explanation then. There is no point in worrying now."

He got up once again to look for one of the elusive books he had not found the previous evening. As luck would have it, the old tome was sitting on the shelf. He brought it back to his desk, and leafed through it. 

Whoever had used the book last had left small pieces of paper tucked here and there marking pages or entire sections. Draco did not particularly dwell on this, until he realized there was a little slip of paper in each section he consulted. He pored through the ancient book, hearing the old parchment pages rustle as he turned to the different markers. Every item marked related to his work. He was curious now. Who could be doing research so similar to his own?

Looking around the library, he spotted a couple of 5th year Hufflepuffs, who seemed more interested in their whispered conversation that in the books around them. Nearby a lone Slytherin appeared to be copying an entire paragraph from an encyclopedia, down to the line breaks. 

Craning his neck, he could see an elbow by an impressive pile of books, right around one of the lecterns. He almost toppled out of his chair trying to see who this was, so he decided to discreetly stand up, and walk to the end of the aisle, which would afford him a better view.

Granger. Well, that little know-it-all was a fixture in the library, wasn't she? Didn't mean she was the one doing his research for him. For all he knew, Granger was having the time of her life reading about the more obscure uses of bubotuber pus. 

He was about to resume his seat when she looked up, and noticed him staring. It only took a split second for her expression to turn from neutral to absolute dislike. Never one to pass up an opportunity to rile her, Draco sneered, and in a moment of inspiration, blew her a kiss. He almost laughed out loud to see her become so flustered so fast. Yes, he still had the touch. 

# # # # # # # #


	2. chapter 2

CHAPTER 2  
  
The Yule Ball was approaching. In the three years since the Triwizard Championship, the Ball had fast become a tradition, and this year it had finally been extended to the whole school. This meant that for three weeks in advance of the event, every girl's foremost thought was to plan her attire, and every boy had nervous dreams of not finding a date.  
  
The professors, although not relaxing their standards as far as homework, were slightly more understanding of the myriad whispered conversations in class, and the rampant note-passing that would occur with or without their approval.  
  
The Gryffindor common room reflected this as much as any other each evening. Only a week earlier there were students playing Exploding Snap, studying, or congregating around the latest strange pet someone had smuggled in. Lee Jordan's giant tarantula had been a favorite and established a trend that had not abated, even after the unfortunate incident when Fang met the spider and seemed to find its crunchiness pleasing.  
  
Now the scene was rather more ebullient, with girls flocking around the latest issues of Witch Weekly to discuss fashion, or passing around a very dog-eared copy of the Gladrags catalog. Meanwhile, boys sulked in small groups, whispering as they stared at the girls, accompanied by much nudging and mumbled comments.  
  
Hermione, Harry and Ron were quite unconcerned. Harry was assured a date with Ginny Weasley, his girlfriend since the previous September. Ron had not objected to the pairing, since he was well aware of Ginny's infatuation with his friend, and he knew Harry would treat her with all the respect and affection she deserved.  
  
Ron and Hermione would be attending together, as they had done since Hermione's explosive revelation that she was, in fact, a girl. Neither regarded this as an actual date, as Ron had no romantic expectations, while Hermione claimed to have no time for dating, but it had become part of the tradition. In any case, each did enjoy the other's company.  
  
Hermione had been as thorough in preparing for the Ball as she was in doing her homework. She had selected a dress months in advance, and it was waiting in her closet, carefully folded in an enchanted box that kept it from wrinkling. As usual, it was understated, simply elegant, and comfortable, reflecting the character of its owner.  
  
Hermione felt it was a nice change to actually take care of her appearance on these special occasions. While she did not have the patience or vanity to fuss over cosmetics and hairdos everyday, she enjoyed the surprised looks each year as she made her entrance to the Great Hall. As Neville had once told her, she cleaned up nicely. It was a comment she actually cherished, if only for its guilelessness.  
  
Already having her own gown did not at all excuse Hermione from participating in the flurry of fashion debates around her. Ginny had not had her forethought, and she had approached Hermione to help her in her own choice of dress. They planned a trip to Hogsmeade for that weekend, so they could find something suitable.  
  
Hermione enjoyed this too, as it gave her a chance to unwind. In a way, it was like a chance to play with dolls again, a doll that could give her feedback. It was soothing, and a welcome respite from the hard work she had been doing, and the long hours in the library. For all its importance to Ginny, it was rather inconsequential, and it felt good to do something that had no far-reaching implications. So Hermione looked forward to Saturday.  
  
# # # # # # # #  
  
That morning, the two girls left the common room bright and early, grabbed a quick breakfast, and leisurely strolled to town, discussing the latest colors, makeup choices, and shoe trends. Ginny was quite a bit more knowledgeable where fashion was concerned, so Hermione was pleased to just let her chatter away, only nodding her assent here and there, or asking for more details. Her mind was pleasantly clear. It was a cold, crisp December day, and it had snowed the night before, but the paths had already been cleared of any accumulated snow and ice, so it made for a pleasant walk, wrapped in their warm hooded cloaks.  
  
The first stop in town was Honeydukes. Hermione did not much indulge in sweets, her parents had made certain that she did not acquire a taste for them, but she enjoyed surprising Ron and Harry with an occasional Chocolate Frog, or Sugar Quill. She replenished her stock, not wanting to leave it for later in case she forgot. Ginny, who was eternally watching her figure, simply stared at the chocolates displayed and inhaled the tantalizing scents longingly. Then it was on to Gladrags.  
  
The momentary lull in conversation while Hermione paid for her purchases at Honeydukes seemed to have given Ginny a chance to tap into her reserves of energy, so she now launched onto a lengthy dissertation on the merits of different hair care products. She barely stopped to catch her breath until they reached the clothing store.  
  
The clerk at Gladrags was already talking to Lisa Turpin, a 7th year Ravenclaw Hermione knew. Lisa noticed the two girls first, and waved them over. She was holding a rather frilly blue gown. "What do you think?" Lisa asked Hermione, hugging the dress to her body.  
  
Ginny almost squealed in delight. "It's perfect! It complements your eyes, and it looks so feminine! You should do your hair up, maybe with some curls to frame your face, it would give you a very soft look."  
  
Hermione quickly took care of the formal introductions, since she was aware that Ginny and Lisa only knew each other in passing. It didn't seem to matter; they already appeared to have more in common than she did with either girl. They were sisters in the Great Sorority of the Closet, she wryly thought.  
  
The three girls ambled around the store, and with the help of the attendant and several trips to the changing booths, were able to find a gown that Ginny declared to be "the one." It fulfilled the long list of requirements Ginny had been rattling off on the way there, which was no small feat. The fabric had a very appealing quality, dark crimson, with glints of gold that changed with the light. In spite of herself, Hermione approved of it, although it was rather more ornate than she would have preferred.  
  
After another two hours of shopping, which were a necessity to find exactly the ideal pair of shoes, and hair accessories, and undergarments, and. Hermione lost track what else, the girls decided to round out the morning with lunch at the Three Broomsticks.  
  
They chatted animatedly all the way there, but no longer about clothes. Much to Hermione's despair, boys had come into the conversation, and seemed to be there to stay. And this was another topic where she was slightly out of her depth. It didn't matter much, though, since it felt good anyway to be just one of the girls for a day. Even if her two friends seemed to be perfectly able to carry out the conversation without her there, it was pleasant to be carefree.  
  
Lisa was unattached, much as Hermione, and Ginny could hardly abide talk of any boy other than her Harry. Anyone else paled in comparison. As far as she was concerned, they probably were not worthy of being mentioned in the same sentence as he was.  
  
Both older girls indulged her amusedly. While they both agreed that Harry was wonderful, neither was particularly interested in his manly attributes, but they found it entertaining to hear him extolled so extravagantly. Ginny was pleased to oblige.  
  
Lisa did not yet have a date for the Yule Ball, but she wasn't worried. In the unlikely event that nobody else asked her, and there was no precedent for this, she figured she could always just walk in with Mandy Brocklehurst. Mandy was another Ravenclaw whose rather thick greenish glasses and unfortunate complexion almost certainly precluded a date at this stage, in spite of her very cheery and charming personality.  
  
They were sitting around a table sipping butterbeers and waiting for their lunch orders. A few minutes had passed, when Lisa, who was sitting across the table from the Gryffindors and thus had a clear view of the door, grinned and waved at someone coming in.  
  
Before Hermione or Ginny could turn, Lisa was calling this person over to join them. It was none other than Malfoy, and his presence did more to chill Ginny and Hermione than the cold outside ever could.  
  
"Lisa," he grinned politely, and acknowledged the other two with a chilly nod, but made no other comments. He briefly declined the invitation, and sat at the bar instead.  
  
Ginny immediately asked Lisa, "You're friends with Malfoy?" and the note of chagrin somewhat made up for the rudeness of her question, which sounded quite like an accusation. Lisa had the good grace to appear surprised.  
  
"I don't know that he would say we are friends, but as far as I'm concerned, he's all right, once he drops the superior act. We have had a few classes together, and he helped me a lot with Study of Ancient Runes last year. I forgot you Gryffindors are a bit more averse to him and the Slytherins than we are. Sorry, didn't mean to make you uncomfortable by asking him over. You should give him a chance, though, he's really funny."  
  
The Gryffindors exchanged a glance. Each had had on numerous occasions the opportunity to experience Malfoy's sense of humor, or rather the biting end of it. However, neither was inclined to disabuse the other girl of her notions, or let their distaste over Malfoy spoil what had so far been a perfectly amicable chat. It did strike Hermione as funny that Lisa would mention giving him a chance, however.  
  
Rather than comment on her misgivings, she decided to refocus the conversation, "I didn't know you were taking Runes. How do you like the class?"  
  
"It was alright at first, learning the straightforward meanings of the Runes and so on. You know, the famed Ravenclaw wit and learning, it comes easy to commit things to mind. But when it came to interpreting the Runes, to perception, I was in a bind. I thought I was going to fail, until Draco came along, and taught me The Secret of Interpreting the Runes, Pursuant to the Draco Malfoy Method," she said in an ominous tone, but barely suppressing a chuckle.  
  
Ginny had to ask, "And that would be."  
  
"Well, you go into a deep state of concentration, think of all you know about each Rune, consider their positions in the spread, and then. you embellish for all you are worth!" Lisa finished with outright laughter.  
  
This sounded so much like what Ron and Harry had been doing in Divination for the past few years, Hermione and Ginny had to laugh in spite of themselves. The three girls' laughter washed over the entire establishment, and several heads turned their way, including the silver one at the bar. Ginny and Hermione eyed Malfoy without their usual contempt, and Hermione was surprised to notice a slightly bemused smile pass briefly over his own lips.  
  
Each turned back to their drinks. Madam Rosmerta brought over their sandwiches, and the pleasant lunch continued, amid conversation ranging from their classes, to favorite pastimes, and so on.  
  
# # # # # # # #  
  
"Lisa, wait up!"  
  
The Ravenclaw turned on her heels to see who was calling. She smiled at Draco Malfoy, and waited for him to catch up. She nodded briefly at the lumbering Crabbe and Goyle behind him.  
  
"Going to the pitch? Mind if we walk with you?" Draco asked at her assent.  
  
They walked for a few moments in silence, Crabbe and Goyle a few steps behind them, carrying what looked like Draco's broomstick and his Quidditch gear.  
  
Draco turned to her with a pleasant smile. "Are you done with your shopping for the Ball? I assume that's what you were doing this morning, correct?"  
  
"Yes, I found a wonderful gown. You know, have to look my best! Why didn't you join us for lunch?" she asked in turn, figuring it was best to get this over and done with.  
  
While she and Draco talked about classes frequently, it was not quite so usual that he would take an interest in her shopping or other such activities. Lisa thought he might have something particular in mind. She suspected it was about their previous brief meeting in Hogsmeade.  
  
He smiled, unruffled. He had not really thought she would be oblivious to his motives. "Well, you seemed to have all the company you needed, and they were not as pleased to see me as I could have hoped. I was truly hurt!" he drawled sarcastically.  
  
"Why do you dislike them so much? Hermione and Ginny are very nice; I would think you could get along quite well with them. If you decided to stop snarling at the mere sight of them, that is."  
  
"I do not snarl, I simply disapprove. That Weasley girl is just as bad as the rest of the family, worse actually, if you consider her taste in boyfriends. And the other, well, the list of what's wrong with her is too long, and I wouldn't want to bore you."  
  
"What do you know about her that I don't? I can't think of anything wrong with Hermione, unless somewhat bushy hair ranks unreasonably high in the list of faults that would prevent you from wanting to know a person."  
  
"No, I was thinking more in the order of her association with that disgraceful Potter and your other little friend's brother. That does rank particularly high on my list. Not to mention the fact that she's not a pureblood, she's a bossy Gryffindor know-it-all, and seems to be McGonagall's pet. I don't know how come that old bag doesn't see through her."  
  
"So far, the only thing on your appraisal that really reflects on Hermione, is being bossy. I would think you were a bit more mature than to hold her friends against her. As far as being a know-it-all, she works hard for it. I actually respect that in her. And let's not start on teacher's pet, shall we? Or Snape might get upset with me and take points from my house for disagreeing with you, Slytherin," she said without malice.  
  
"And as to the Mud. Muggle-born charges? What would you say? I suppose that has no bearing over anything, correct?" he asked with some of the superciliousness he normally reserved for Gryffindors.  
  
Lisa was far from pleased. While she was a pureblood witch, her family had never looked on Muggles with the contempt that many others, and most notably the Slytherins, seemed to reserve for them. She saw no reason for it. Little as she knew about Muggles, she suspected Draco knew even less, and was simply parroting his elders. "I thought you were in possession of a finer mind than that, Draco. I've listened to you put down my friend long enough, for reasons that are so far beyond her control, or so farfetched as to be laughable. I will no more hold her parents against her than I would hold your father's associations against you. And he has far more choice in the matter than the Grangers have in being Muggles."  
  
Immediately, Lisa sensed she had said too much. She should have known better than to bring Lucius Malfoy into a conversation with Draco. She was unutterably surprised when, instead of rounding back on her with some scathing comment, he just picked up his pace in silence, overtaking her with a stormy expression, and heading for the changing rooms, closely followed by his two lumbering cohorts.  
  
# # # # # # # #  
  
"Draco."  
  
Coldly, "Turpin."  
  
Several pairs of Slytherin eyes looked up to her, but no gray ones. It was Wednesday, and she had not talked to Malfoy since their disagreeable encounter on Saturday afternoon. Of course, Lisa had seen him at the Slytherin table during each meal since then, but never by himself, so she hadn't had a chance to explain. Since she did not want to postpone her apology further, the Ravenclaw had decided to call on Draco the very next time she saw him, even if he wasn't alone.  
  
"Was there something you wanted with me, or did you just wish to make sure we Slytherins are not served better food than the other houses?" The sneer in his tone was unmistakable, despite his never once turning to face her.  
  
She was here to apologize, and she sensed he knew it, but did not want to give her a chance. "Actually, I did want something with you, but I see you are busy, so maybe we'll do this some other time. I wouldn't want your dinner to get cold." His attitude upset her. She turned and headed for the Ravenclaw table, where Mandy was waiting and saving her a seat. Before she could take it, however, she heard Draco's voice again behind her.  
  
"I was quite done with dinner, and am not in the mood for dessert. I suppose I have a moment."  
  
With a half smile, she turned to him, and motioned him outside. She mouthed something to Mandy over her shoulder, who shrugged, turned to Terry Boot, and struck up a conversation.  
  
# # # # # # # #  
  
Once in the wide hallway, she sat down at the top of the stairs, and motioned for him to sit with her, but he declined, simply standing a few steps lower, so as not to tower over her.  
  
"Well?" Draco asked in a very unfriendly tone.  
  
Lisa started, "I want to apologize to you. I should not have said anything about your father on Saturday, and I am sorry that I upset you."  
  
His eyes distant, he shrugged. "You didn't upset me. You were voicing what you think you know about my father. I won't hold your ignorance of the subject over you, as you so generously refrain from holding his activities over me," his voice dripping with sarcasm.  
  
"Draco, I am trying to apologize. I don't expect you to make it easy, but you can hold your tongue for a moment and let me talk, can't you? Or is that too big a boon to ask of a Malfoy?" The veiled admission in his words was not lost on her, however.  
  
He started to turn away from her, when she stopped him with her hand on his arm. Draco shook her hand off, but stayed.  
  
"I'm sorry. Once again, Draco, I let my temper run away with me. I really want to make this better, I know I was wrong, and I accused your family of things I don't know about, and I want you to forgive me, but you can be so infuriating, and you can make me lose control so easily!"  
  
At this explosion, a small but undeniable smirk came to his until then too- serious face. He finally sat down by her. "Really? Tell me more about me. and stick to what you know, Turpin."  
  
"And will that earn me your forgiveness? It is after all what I'm trying to get," she grinned.  
  
"Depends on how close to the mark I find your comments."  
  
"Very well, I'll be mindful of that. Let's see. I know not everyone would agree with me, since you don't seem to have much of a devoted following here, if you set aside the Slytherins, but I don't find you quite as objectionable as others do, so I'll talk from my experience."  
  
"That's all I am asking."  
  
"All right. Yes, as I mentioned, you are infuriating. But I think you enjoy that."  
  
More smirking.  
  
"You are smart enough to deserve being placed in Ravenclaw, and that is high praise as far as I'm concerned."  
  
"Arguably."  
  
She ignored the smugness in his voice. "Given the effort you constantly put into foiling Harry Potter and the Gryffindors, I would say you are as tenacious as a Hufflepuff."  
  
A simple nod.  
  
"I know you can be charming, although you are highly selective of who you bestow your charm on. You have excellent manners, but don't let this get in the way when it comes to making inappropriate comments to those you dislike. That seems to take precedence."  
  
Wicked smile, "Go on."  
  
"You are witty and funny, although you seem to prefer making fun of people to having fun with them."  
  
He did not look at her.  
  
"And can I hazard a thus-far unfounded guess, without fear of losing whatever points I may have earned until now?  
  
"You may," he answered magnanimously, with a glint in his eyes that betrayed his solemn expression.  
  
"I think you could be as good a friend as any Gryffindor, if you so chose, but have not yet found anyone you think worthy of your friendship."  
  
"Well, now that is quite a guess. I don't know that you are right, but since I find it very complimentary, in spite of the Gryffindor reference, I won't take points from you. You do, however, have yet to extol any of my Slytherin virtues."  
  
"Actually, I was saving those qualities for my list of the less pleasant aspects of your company. I only started with the good because I wanted you to forgive me."  
  
"Turpin, you are pushing it. I just forgave you, don't make me regret it so soon," he said with a playful expression that belied his words.  
  
"And stop calling me Turpin, unless you are still upset with me. I like the mighty Draco Malfoy to call me Lisa."  
  
"All right, you just said I'm mighty, and that's Slytherin enough for me. I now pronounce you entirely forgiven, Lisa."  
  
"Good, so now that I have you in a good mood, how about you come to the Yule Ball with me?" she rushed this out, not at all in her usual calm tones. She was not sure how he'd take it.  
  
"Well, Miss Turpin, this is entirely unexpected! I understand I am irresistible, to round out my other good qualities you just finished mentioning, but I never knew you." his grin was irrepressible as he said this, but he actually looked mystified.  
  
"Don't put words in my mouth, Malfoy. I have no trouble resisting you. But I thought I could show you how the other half lives. Since you got to Hogwarts you have been so enclosed in your green and silver cocoon, most people haven't had a chance to know you, as has been my rare privilege. I thought I would give you a chance to mingle with the populace, and maybe have a good time," she explained earnestly.  
  
Lisa continued, "I thought it may be a way of making things up to you. Many people only know the rumors about your family, as I know I don't have to explain to you. To be honest, you have not done much to dispel the myth, but since I have seen people automatically mistrust you, on the basis of your name and your House, I won't hold you entirely responsible for your nasty attitude."  
  
"So you think I am some poor misjudged child, and took pity on me? I believe I will get offended again. You should have stopped right after your apology," he commented dryly. His eyes gleamed colder than she had ever seen them.  
  
"Draco, don't put on airs now, I know you are not entirely the way people think! I would have thought you could do with relaxing for one night, not having to pretend you are something I know you are not." she quickly retorted, refusing to let herself be upset by his coldness.  
  
But Draco simply turned and stalked out, leaving her in the empty room, wondering exactly what it was that made him react as he had. 


	3. chapter 3

CHAPTER 3  
  
He was at a complete loss. Over the last four and a half years, he had died in the most gruesome and contrived ways countless times, had been mauled by every beast with a M.O.M. rating of XXX or higher (even a few XX ones had ganged up on him), been unlucky in love, lost at every form of gambling and sport, and had every conceivable misfortune heaped upon his head.  
  
But he still had a few more months of Divination to get through, and Ron could not think of one more creative misadventure to foretell for himself.  
  
That's it! He thought, and then wrote, "Due to an ascendant Neptune, I will fail one of my courses. My family will be shamed by this, and will cast me out."  
  
That should please the old hag, he told himself. He had staved off disaster for another month.  
  
He knew he had started repeating his predictions, but until recently Ron had figured it was safe to do so. That was before a few comments from Professor Trelawney made him realize that, although her Inner Eye was undeniably clouded, there was nothing wrong with her memory.  
  
The old fraud had called him on it, forcing him to new flights of fancy when it came to auguring disaster. He had briefly considered he was due for some good fortune, but she would have none of it. Nothing but the juiciest mishaps would satisfy her.  
  
Finally completing his predictions for the following month, he felt drained. His resources were tapped out. He felt a massive headache coming on, and an idea formed in its wake. Why didn't I think of this sooner! He made a note to remind himself for the following month. "Ask Pomfrey about incurable diseases, focus on disfiguring and painful ones."  
  
Hermione had long since stopped ranting about his practice of lying in his Divination homework. So many times had he simply reworded the old standby of "a friend will disapprove of your actions," she figured it amounted to doing his homework for him.  
  
He rolled up the parchment, and put it away with a final sigh. Collecting his quill, ink and wand, he got up and looked around the common room. Not many people were still up. It was quite late, and he realized he had been working by the faint light of the fireplace for the last hour or so.  
  
Harry was snoring softly on one of the large armchairs, glasses crookedly hanging off his nose. Ron nudged him with his knee, saw him sit up with an unfocused gaze, and started up the steps to the dormitory. "Wouldn't you sleep better in your bed?" he shot over his shoulder.  
  
A grunt was the closest thing to a verbal reply Ron got, but he did hear his friend slowly and creakily getting up to follow. They silently climbed the stairs, and with almost perfect synchronicity, fell upon their respective beds; Ron, the less groggy of the two, perfunctorily casting a Waking Charm over both of them for the next morning, before surrendering to sleep.  
  
# # # # # # # # #  
  
VOLDEMORT!  
  
Death Eaters!  
  
.Hermione?  
  
Harry's eyes shot open in the darkened room, and it took him a moment to figure out what or who exactly was shaking him relentlessly out of his well- deserved rest. He fumbled to straighten his glasses, which he hadn't even removed the night before. He was still fully dressed, although his robes smelled sour, and had spent the entire night on top of his bedcovers.  
  
"All right, I'm awake, what is it?" he croaked through dry lips.  
  
Hermione glared at him. It was too early for her to be glaring; he knew he couldn't possibly have done anything to deserve it yet. He was still in bed!  
  
"You two were supposed to meet me in the library almost an hour ago. Honestly, you ask for my help to study for NEWTs, and then you leave me waiting! I do have other things to do!"  
  
"Is Ron up?" Harry started to ask, but drowsy mumbling for the bed next to his told him his friend was in just as hot water. He heard his friend saying something about casting a Waking Charm.  
  
"Sorry, I don't even know how I got to bed last night, I remember sitting with Ron downstairs, and then you started shaking me and I woke here. I guess Ron ." but his bed and Ron's suddenly tipped them out unceremoniously. The Waking Charm. Ron had apparently set it for the wrong time. Harry vaguely wondered if Hermione would be content with seeing them sprawled on the floor, but it did not seem to appease her as much as he had hoped.  
  
"Hermione, sorry. But now we need a shower, we still have to get dressed, and have breakfast, and then go to Divination. I don't think we'll be able to meet this morning. How about tonight after dinner?" Ron offered in a conciliatory tone.  
  
Through all this, Hermione's lips had tightened and tightened, until only a fine crimson line indicated where her mouth should have been. As a rule, she did not swear, and she could not think of anything to say that would not be in direct contravention to that custom. She had lost an entire hour of sleep, or even better, of work on her paper, and they had not shown up! She knew she would have forgiven them by lunchtime, so she decided to simply turn around and leave before saying anything. She was fully aware that she was tired and cranky, so she had the good sense of not taking it out on the boys, with would also mean wasting even more of her morning.  
  
As Hermione was tearing down the stairs back to the common room, Lavender crossed her path and started to say something, but when she noticed Hermione's expression, she simply squeaked, and almost dove into an alcove to let her pass.  
  
Her fury in front of her like a shield, Hermione crossed the portrait hole, and stalked through the corridors back to the library.  
  
As she irately turned a corner, she virtually careened into Malfoy, and sent them both sprawling. This was just too much. "JUST WHAT IN THE WORLD DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING, MALFOY? DIDN'T DADDY TEACH YOU TO LOOK WHERE YOU ARE GOING? AND WHAT ON EARTH WAS SHE THINKING, GIVE YOU A CHANCE?" All this spouted from her lips without pause, as she got up violently and left him, without missing a beat.  
  
Malfoy did not look quite his composed self, but then, composure usually suffers when finding yourself lying spread eagled among all your scattered books in the middle of a crowded hallway. He could feel a scathing answer form in the back of his throat, but before it could come out, Granger had picked herself and her things up, and ran off again. He couldn't help but notice she was crying. He thoughtfully picked up his parchments and books, waving away Crabbe's help. Draco absentmindedly stuffed what he could in the large pockets of his cloak, and proceeded on to class.  
  
What in the world was that? He had made an art of upsetting and wheedling Potter & Co. for the past six and a half years. In spite of this, he had no illusions as to his effectiveness. He knew he could make the Weasel snap without the smallest effort, but that required no great flair. Potter was a little harder to really get to, having to appeal to the Gryffindorness in him. But he had only been able to cut into Granger twice before, once in third year, provoking her to the point of physical violence, and once with a cruel comment about Diggory's death, of which, if he had to be perfectly honest, he was not particularly proud.  
  
Granger's cool head had always presented him with a challenge, and he could appreciate that. This time he had cut through her rational veneer, and he had no clue as to how, or what he could do to replicate it. And what was that about someone asking her to give me a chance? Can this mean that Lisa started some sort of goodwill campaign on my behalf, in spite of my rejection of her? Damn her good intentions, that could make my life very complicated.  
  
His brow darkened, part in ire, part in question. He had to get things in hand again; his grasp was slipping if this could go on beneath his notice. He cursed under his breath, and settled down for class.  
  
# # # # # # # # # # #  
  
It was not until later that day that Draco saw the girl again. Granger was sitting by herself in the library, surrounded by the ever-present piles of books, the more arcane, the better. On impulse, he decided to talk to her as, given that Lisa Turpin would probably deny everything, he could not figure out a simpler way of finding out what he wanted. Not to say that he had to be any more civil than strictly required.  
  
"Granger, what a surprise to find you here. Finally got rid of your entourage, I see," he observed as he sprawled on the chair across from her.  
  
Bright hazel eyes flashed at him, "I'm busy, Malfoy, what do you want?"  
  
"Nothing you could give me. But I have been wondering about your outburst this morning."  
  
Hermione interrupted, "If you are looking for an apology, you will be sadly disappointed. Just consider the incident payback for years of ignoring your cheap jabs."  
  
A dismissive curl on his lip, he explained in the condescending tone she had heard him use towards house elves, "Granger, I do not expect manners from the likes of you. Now, you may be flattered to learn I'm curious as to something you said. I'm not under the same delusion as everyone in this school seems to be, that you are a rational being. But even you tend to make somewhat more sense in your usual ramblings than you did this morning."  
  
"If you're trying to flatter me you are going about it the wrong way. Just tell me how I aroused your curiosity, Malfoy, and be done with it. I have better things to do than trade insults with you, however worthy of insulting you may be."  
  
"Fine, let's cut to it. You babbled on about someone asking you to give me a chance. What was that about?"  
  
"Ask Lisa Turpin. She has the strange notion that you are not the despicable snake everyone else knows you to be. Are we done with this delightful interlude now?"  
  
"Thankfully, we are. A pleasure, as usual," he drawled, taking his leave, his cloak fluttering and then falling around him in a cascade of black as he stepped away from the table.  
  
Hermione could not let him go without asking a question of her own. "Malfoy, why do you care?"  
  
"What makes you think I do?" he volleyed back without breaking stride, while inwardly cringing. If you only knew.  
  
Hermione only spared this another few seconds of her attention, before shrugging and turning back to her book.  
  
# # # # # # # # #  
  
Something had to be done. Draco couldn't help but notice what Granger had been working on, and now he was certain it had been her who had left the passages marked in the books he had been reading. So, she had an interest in the matter as well. But why?  
  
Of course, he could not delude himself that her motivations would be the same as his. His point of view was simply anathema to her. So, it stood to reason that she was taking the opposite view. And she would be using the same basis for her arguments! An annotated copy of the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy had been among the texts on her pile. One of the German books he had unsuccessfully been looking for was there, and he thought he had noticed a scroll from the Merlin archives poking out of the lot. Typically methodic of her to get all the materials available at once, to have them handy as she took notes.  
  
So much for the element of surprise. Draco had not counted on having someone who knew him in the audience when he made his presentation. If she would be there when he carried out his plan, he'd better rethink his strategy, or he'd be in a lot of trouble. And it did not help any that Lisa Turpin had such good intentions, and such terrible timing.  
  
Yes, he needed help if he was going to succeed.  
  
# # # # # # # # #  
  
"Professor, could I have a moment?"  
  
Potions class was over, but Draco Malfoy had stayed behind, taking longer than usual to clear his worktable. Finally the last student had left, and he could ask Professor Snape for the meeting he hoped would solve his problem.  
  
"Of course, Mr. Malfoy. Is something the matter? I did not see any problem with your results today, so I assume this is not about the healing draught we worked on."  
  
"You are right, sir, it's rather of a personal nature. I would appreciate your advice." A moment of doubt crossed the grey eyes, but immediately calm asserted itself again.  
  
A black eyebrow shot up, though Severus Snape's face did not evince any other emotion. The request was unexpected, but not unwelcome. "Absolutely, Draco. Let's finish here, and we'll talk in my quarters. We'll be more comfortable, if that is alright with you."  
  
"Thank you, Professor." Draco allowed himself a relieved sigh.  
  
Student and teacher finished clearing up the Potions dungeon in companionable silence and, after carefully locking up the supplies, found themselves in front of a large oak door just down the corridor. Its massive bulk swung into Snape's apartment, a rather pleasant affair, starkly elegant, though lacking the luxury evident in the Slytherin dorms.  
  
The setting suited its owner. Dark wood shelving ran along three walls, punctuated only by the impressive entrance door and another one, less grandiose, presumably leading to the bedroom. The fourth wall sported a fireplace, currently in use, flanked on both sides by windows, which constituted a small luxury in a dungeon. A solid, weighty-looking desk and dark green leather chair dug their shapes onto an intricately patterned rug. Curiously, no vials, bottles, scales or other such paraphernalia were in evidence anywhere in the room. The air was redolent of leather, smoke and parchment, forming a comforting presence that enveloped any visitor to sit on one of the matched wingback chairs by the fire.  
  
All in all, a very masculine, very academic room, which hinted to a facet of its occupant most people could not see in daily interactions. High above the topmost shelf along two walls, Quidditch memorabilia attested to a keen interest in the sport. Curiously enough, what looked like Muggle fishing implements completed the decoration on the top of the third wall. No photographs or other hints of familial delights adorned any surface.  
  
With a swish of robes, Professor Snape took a seat in the more worn of the armchairs, gesturing for Draco to sit in the other one. Tea and scones were set on the small table flanking the Professor's seat, which he magicked to move between their chairs while also conjuring a second cup for his guest. Once the fragrant beverage was poured, Severus simply sat watching Draco, waiting for him to begin the conversation.  
  
It did not take long. A sharp intake of air preceded the words, as if Draco was preparing for a long exposition. "I am sorry to ask for your involvement in affairs I believe you probably would rather stay out of, Professor, but I don't know who else to turn to."  
  
"I must ask you one personal question before I begin, and I understand if you choose not to answer. This is a sensitive topic and I could not discuss it with you if I were wrong as to your standing on several subjects which will come up." Draco paused for a moment, as if to weight his next words, and give the older man another chance to back out before too much was said.  
  
The young Slytherin was unusually tentative, but the risk was great. If he had made a mistake in his assessment of his professor, some quick thinking would be in order, and he wished he had it in him to walk out of this unscathed.  
  
Severus Snape watched his favorite student without even a flicker of emotion. Under normal circumstances, he would have expected to be consulted about future plans, possible career decisions, more infrequently family or emotional matters. But he knew Draco Malfoy was not the type to ask for such assistance. He was curious as to what was going through the mind of this young man who had given him plenty of reasons to respect him for his clear thinking and calm self-assurance. He felt strangely honored to be taken into his confidence.  
  
Could this be precipitating the conversation I considered having with young Malfoy later this term? Severus had put it off numerous times, for all sorts of reasons. He hoped he knew his student well enough to answer his question correctly, if indeed it came to that. Impassively, he motioned for Draco to continue.  
  
Malfoy braced himself, determined to set the older man at ease as to his motives, but weighing each word he would soon pronounce. How to put this so that he would not compromise his position if Snape's answer was not what he had hoped?  
  
With another deep breath, he continued. "Please forgive my indiscretion, sir. Understand I would not presume to ask, if I could think of any way to proceed without your assistance. I assure you, if you'd rather not discuss this matter I will not pry into your private affairs, nor will my respect for you be lessened in any way. I know I can trust you to keep this conversation in confidence, I'd like to set your mind at ease that I will do the same, regardless of outcome."  
  
Snape regarded him in silence, as if weighing the seriousness of the situation, the maturity of the young man sitting across from him. Rather than break the silence he had kept until then, he nodded his acquiescence, almost as if he knew what question to expect.  
  
Lowering his gaze, but in a clear and firm voice, Draco asked it. "Professor, are you still a loyal Death Eater?" 


End file.
